


La Louve Solitaire

by galacticMouse_Mouse_413



Series: The Lone Miraculous [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alcohol, Ancient Majicks, Asexual af character, Bisexual Characters, Daydreaming, Death, Ew, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Funerals, Gore, Kwamis everywhere, Lesbian Girls, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Multi, NSFW, Oooooo, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamorous Relationships maybe?, Regret, Sad, Self-Blame, Wolves, Writing, Yikes, a.k.a Zoe, buzz - Freeform, death at the very beginning wowza, esoteric is my new favorite word, everyone after Chloe is an OC except for Chat Blanc, gay boys, guess whoooo, heated kissing sin, howl - Freeform, is caught by fluff, kind of sin?, kisses your hearts and souls, lots of self-blame, lotsa angst, meow, oh yeah the fluff bunny will make its way in too, oops sin, slips and falls on all the sinsoon to come, there will be art soon?, to heal you from all the angst and sad, triggering topics maybe?, woof woof, you will get healing fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6027484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticMouse_Mouse_413/pseuds/galacticMouse_Mouse_413
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria wasn't sure what to expect when her parents shipped her from Spain to France practically overnight. Especially to do their job. She'd expected to be immediately recognized by the rich teens at her new school, and then news of her social status would blow a hole through the order of the school, and kids from the bottom would be vying for her attention so they could crawl their way to the top.She hadn't expected finding the silver metal choker in an alleyway on her way back to the mansion. She hadn't expected the split second decision of scooping it up as soon as she found it and clipping it around her neck as if by near second nature. She hadn't expected the small, wolf-like creature that became her companion, following her everywhere. She definitely didn't expect falling in love with a shaggy blonde in a white leather cat suit, or making friends with another shaggy blonde in a black leather cat suit, and a Ravenette in a black spotted red suit.She hadn't expected to become a superhero.</p><p>The Lone Wolf quickly learns how to keep rolling with the punches. Or at least not die trying.</p><p>It starts like every story with heroes, adventure, and romance begins, this one is the same. </p><p>Death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is Mouse, with my very first book here on Archive Of Our Own. I've been reading a bunch of stories on here and have finally mustered the courage to start writing! Constructive Criticism is accepted! I apologize for slow updates, but at least the chapters will be long?
> 
> Luppis's name is pronounced Loo-piss by the way.

_Just like many stories, filled with heroism, and adventure, and love, this story-_

**Begins with death.**

You run across rooftops, black-spotted red clad feet slapping the shingles, your blood roaring in your ears as you desperately dodge Animan's blows. The sky above screamed, unleashing it's tears of agony, and Stormy Weather cackled from her position in the sky, all but toying with the hissing and spitting Chat's below her. Below, civilians scatter and flee, screaming as they run for their lives. Only few are frozen in shock, but through the white screen of freezing rain, you can't quite make out who. How Hawkmoth had managed to akumatize two people at once, people who had already been akumatized, you'd never know, but there must be some ploy to this. It's got to be a distraction, to an even bigger blow, but what? What could he possibly be aiming for-

"Bridgette! _MOVE!_ " You hear Chat Noir scream, and you duck beneath another swipe of Animan's claws, back flipping and landing on another roof.

Everything slows down.

You see your older sister, sweet, innocent, outgoing Bridgette, scrambling and slipping on the tar road as she was shaken out of her frozen stupor. You see her slip, and fall on her hands and knees. You see the lightning strike, that slices the tree she'd fallen next to. Dazed, she blinks up in horror at the ear-splitting crack, at the splintery groan that rises to a scream in tandem with the storms crescendo. You see Chat Blanc racing toward her, but he's knocked back by a tail of wind, and there is horror in his eyes, in Chat's eyes, in your soul. Bridgette desperately makes a final attempt at fleeing.

Black leather clad hands fly over your eyes, but you see, you catch a glimpse, you hear the crunch and the scream, and your scream because _oh my god **Bridgette.**_

You howl in grief and rage, and all you can see is red, blinding red, and you twist against Chat's grip, and break free, and almost fall right then and there because she's completely crushed underneath the tree, but your rage overwhelms you and you activate your Lucky Charm, hear Chat activate his Cataclysm, and Blanc activates his Calamity and you're not sure what it was that spawned because of the Lucky Charm, or what happened after that, because suddenly, the akumatized victims are gone, there are two white butterflies fluttering away in the clear sky, the sun in warm on your skin, and you are crouched next to Bridgette's body, and your eyesight is blurry, and you're openly sobbing into black and white arms that tremble and shake as well, and your mind is still on that rain battered roof and your body is still cold, still wet.

The Cure didn't work on her.

She's still underneath the tree, her blood is still pooling and seeping into the cracks of the road, and into her still wet clothes, her hair is still dripping with icy rain water, and there are tears in her eyes, and blood dripping from her nose and mouth, and her beautiful stormy blue eyes have lost their spark, they are dull and broken now.

  
Bridgette is dead.

_It's all your fault._

You hear a beeping in your ears, and it sounds hollow to you. The arms around you shift gently, and the white ones untangle from you, the black ones scooping you up and cradling you. You can hear the citizens creeping out from hiding, hear their horrified silence, and you can feel them grieving with you. At least, you hope they are. You know they see you three, a silent, tear-stained, stony-faced Chat Noir, a hollowed, trembling, broken-looking Chat Blanc, and a shattered Ladybug, who is openly weeping before them, for the loss of someone the heroine clearly cared for.

You feel Chat's body tense around you, feel his corded muscles bunch and stretch as he and Chat Blanc flee the scene, with you cradled gently in their embrace. Another beep. You hear the beeps on their rings follow in tandem. It seems none of you care.

When you reach the meeting point from earlier today, you untangle yourself from Chat's arms, and hug them both once, before turning and going home. They stay silent. When you reach your roof, you collapse, and the transformation wears off. Distantly, you hear the knock on the door, and tilt your head sideways. Police Cars are parked near the bakery. You hear light voices greeting the officers, voices that are confused as to the unexpected visit.

Minutes later, you hear your mother's wail of dismay and grief, and see her running away from the bakery, into the street and directly to the scene. Your father stumbles after her, shock settling onto his features. The policemen leave.

Tikki's weight on your shoulder is comforting for only a moment as you bury your head in your hands.

_You scream._

Your name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You are an ordinary civilian, with an extraordinary secret. Your parents are Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. They have two daughters, you and your older sister Bridgette Dupain-Cheng.

Ten minutes ago, because of that secret, you became their only surviving daughter. Ten minutes ago, you lost your sister.

**_Ten minutes ago, Bridgette Dupain-Cheng died, and it is all your fault._ **


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Young Wolf finds herself at the mouth of a Lion's Den.

A bored yawn pushes its way up strong lungs and plump, pale lips. Your eyes droop sleepily as you patiently wait in a small coffee shop.

  
If you wouldn't mind answering a blabbering subconscious, _where are you?_

  
You answer said narrative subconscious with a resounding, " _Paris, France._ "

  
You sip at your coffee, short legs crossed underneath the quaint wooden table. "Sophia, when are they getting here again?" You ask your sweet, stern PA. Her hair is down in long, dark, envious satin waves. They curl elegantly, and frame her roundish features. Her eyes are a dark, alluring green, her lips a pink pallor against her brown-toned skin. She wears a comfortable grey sweater, and dark leggings, her calves swallowed up by black leather heeled boots. Sophia looks everything like a teenager, until she of course opens her mouth, and then you quickly realize that she's an adult.

  
That, and if you looked at her hardworking, aged hands as well. They were far from the prettiest hands you've seen, but you cant help but love them. They tell you that this woman has a story to her, a story that gave her such hands. Being the only person you were truly comfortable with, you'd often share quiet moments, with small stories of each others past, and especially when you were young, you'd curl up in her lap, her broken hands held in yours, and you'd listen, while staring at those hands.

  
Sometimes, you liked to imagine that simply by holding her hands, you were healing them, even if only a little bit. Those quiet moments were one of the roots of your pleasant childhood memories.

  
Right now, was not one of those moments.

  
Right now, was filled with chatter, and warm breaths, and the uncomfortable feeling of suspicious and curious stares that made your skin crawl. You shrink further in your seat. Honestly, you just want to go back home to Spain, and not have to be a stand in for your parents because they just _had_ to be in China. Rubbing your temples, you jolt when you realize that for the past ten minutes, Sophia hadn't answered your question, and then did, about five seconds ago.

  
"They're here. Rather, it seems Mr. Agreste's assistant is here."

  
You jolt up at her aged voice, then turn your head, and see a tall woman, that seems to be made entirely of sticks. Her foundation is wobbly, you note quietly, she seems very unbalanced. You stand slowly as her gaze bypasses you, and you almost give an amused smile as her gaze hiccups and snaps back to you and makes note of the stone that hangs around your neck.

  
The mark of a Polanco.

  
Sophia stands with you as you finish of your coffee with a quick tilt of the ceramic cup and a _slap_ as you smack down a wad of cash, before strutting up to the woman like you owned the ground you stood on, and you knew it, and everyone else should know it too. She is quiet for a moment before speaking, eyes scrutinizing your high-waisted shorts, white stockings, white dress shirt and black double-tailed overcoat. "You must be..."

  
"Maria Polanco." You fill in the blank the woman left behind. "You must be Nathalie." you inquire confidently, and she nods. "This is my personal assistant, Sophia Vasquez, she'll be accompanying me." You introduce her, and Sophia steps forward and gives Nathalie a firm handshake. You steal a glance at her hands, and frown. Frail, old, yet soft. She has not had a hard life.

  
You follow outside, and slip into the limo waiting for you all. Staring out the window, you take in the scenery. Barren trees, ice-covered sidewalks, and mounds of snow. It seemed lifeless, until you took note of the people that moved along the powdery mounds, and you saw the life seep into the air. Your lips lifted into the smallest of smiles.

Maybe Paris wouldn't be so bad after all.

  
You admit, your a bit impressed at the exterior of the Agreste mansion when the limo pulls up into the large courtyard. The outside reminds you of a chapel, or an Italian villa, or maybe a museum? The garden is lively, and you know that your stay here will likely consist of visiting the gardens more often than not. You step out of the limo and follow Nathalie nonchalantly into the house, though on the inside you are practically budding with excitement to see the inside. You wonder if it's as warm as the outside portrays.

  
When you walk inside, it takes sheer force of will (and Sophia laying a comforting hand on your shoulder) for you not to turn around and walk right back out. As pretty as the marble is, and you quite like the black flower in the middle of the foyer, you don't quite like the dead feeling the home exudes. The giant family portrait with a man and 2 boys with a dead look in their eyes isn't helping either. You feel a shudder pass through you. You swear that it's colder in here than it is outside.

  
As you are busy feeling overly conflicted about the surroundings, a tall figure makes itself known at the top of the staircase before you. Sophia gives you a light tap, and you blink, tearing yourself from your gloomy reverie. She points forward, and you turn your head, and give a blink of surprise.

 

Standing before you is the best fashion designer in the entirety of the fashion industry.

  
"Gabriel Agreste." You hum aloud, and are momentarily proud at how passive and confident you sound. "Ah, so you've heard of me?" the man rumbles, and something in you recoils at his smug, yet emotionless tone. "Why of course," You state, swaggering forward, a gleam of danger in your eye, and even with being smaller, and younger than him, your movements are everything like a predator approaching her prey.

  
"Who hasn't heard of you. 'Gabriel Agreste, the best fashion designer in history, whose style rivals that of Vetali, Chanel, Armani, all of them should grovel at his feet'." You quote with a wry smirk. "My mothers' words, not mine."

  
"And who, exactly, may you be?" he cuts in to your small bought of theatrics, seemingly irritated. Ha. He's figured out that you're being very sardonic. You chuckle at that, and glance at Sophia, who doesn't seem like she completely approves of you messing with the old man, yet doesn't entirely object to it.

  
"Me?" You step forward, conquering the last steps before you right before him, and you bow very slightly, with exaggerated politeness. "Maria Polanco, daughter of the fashion entrepreneurs who seek business with you." you stand and promptly glower at him, a smile on your face.

  
"Pleased to make your acquaintance."

  
Not a moment later, you and the man are having a stare down, ferociously graceful, dangerously silent.

  
A soft voice breaks the tension.

  
"Father...?"

  
You break eye contact with pale grey eyes and lock with bright green irises. You blink gently and cock your head. The boy looks to be a bit taller than you --much to your resentment-- and has short, tousled golden locks, gel and hairspray primping it to perfection. His eyes exude an innocence, burdened by knowledge, and his hands show conflicting personalities. Perfectly pampered nails and soft fingertips show off his life in the lap of luxury, but his palms are rough, and slightly calloused, only hidden by the sheer amount of hand lotion used to try and hide those scars.

  
Unfortunately for him, your trained eyes have seen the hands of many.

  
"He has a secret." You hiss under your breath, shifting your weight to face him, and then your eyes wander to the shadow that stands tall next to him.

  
Taller than the ray of sunshine standing next to him, his eyes are cold, a confusing mix of grey and green that makes a pallor similar to that of fuzzy mint leaves encased in ice. His hair is pale, like golden silk held under sunlight, and it's long, slicked back as best as one could manage with such a mane. He's sharp, all angles, with killer cheekbones, sharp slender shoulders, and a thin bony physique that completely combats with his aura of deadly confidence. You know without a doubt this boy is related to the man just two feet to you, and his uncanny resemblance to the boy next to him leads you to believe they are twins.

  
"Why do I feel as if I've wandered into the lion's den." You groan, gaze dragging over to Sophia. She smiles at your apparent misery, and you pout at _her_ apparent glee.

  
"It's about time you left the wolf den anyway, Dearest Maria." she answers. "I take it back," You grumble to yourself, sulking. 

 

**_"Paris is going to be terrible."_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaayy it's finally out! Damn I'm tired. 
> 
> Comment your opinion of this chapter below, Kudos is appreciated!
> 
> -Mouse


	3. A/N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small notice for thee

So, I kind of lost interest in this for a little while? I never could figure out a way to go on from the last chapter, because filler chapter's are always so much harder to get through. 

Then my old computer got water spilled on it, and the motherboard was fried. Thus all the info and profiles and backgrounds I had for my OC's and the plot and villains, all that info was gone. 

But I never lost interest in creating a wolf miraculous OC. All the powers I had lined up for Maria were so FUN and CRAZY and the plot lines to go with the introduction of these powers was downright amazing and it was really going to go somewhere but all that is in the lost folder of the old computer.

Thus, I now have to start from dirt and muck and work my way up.

That being said it'll be quite a while before I have everything sorted out. Gotta get all my ducklings lined up, but until then, feel free to continue to read the first few chapters, and have fun with that world and just imagine what might have been with it.

See you guys soon!

\- MOUSEY

**Author's Note:**

> So you might be wondering, "Why did she kill Bridgette!?"
> 
> Well, when the anime version of MLB never came out, and the design of Marinette changed, and Adrien became the new Chat Noir and not Felix, I decided that the whole 'make the 2D version not Marinette, but Bridgette' headcanon would work. And since Bridgette is Felix's love interest fandom wise, to respect and completely disregard that simultaneously, I figured only one thing could be done to get this over with.
> 
> Bridgette had to die.
> 
> I'd say I feek bad, but I don't really. Kinda.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed and yes, the death bunny came before the Angst and Fluff bunny this time! Leave a comment on your opinion, and how I could improve. Kudos would be appreciated! Later!
> 
> -Mouse


End file.
